


two arms holding you

by foundmyhome



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, F/M, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 15:47:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6430606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundmyhome/pseuds/foundmyhome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her blood is stained on his hands and he clutches her still body to his chest.  "Anything, Regina, I'll pay any price."// in which Killian trades their memories of each other to bring her back to life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	two arms holding you

“Save her, please, oh God, no. Emma, wake up, love, you have to wake up, please, help me!” 

There’s blood on his hands from where he’s clutched her to his chest, her white sweater stained a dark red. Bits of her light blonde hair are tinged ruby, marring her angelic image into one of a martyr.

Her mother kneels near him, her body bent at its middle from the force of her sobs. He can’t feel his face or his hand. His legs are numb, too, and though he can see the tears splash against her cheeks as they drip down his chin, he can’t feel them fall. The only thing he can feel is his throat, threatening to close, and his chest burn.

“Bring her back, bring her back,” he chants, rocking their bodies the way he would a babe.

“Emma, Emma, Emma,” Snow cries her name with every shuddering rake of her body and she reaches towards her, but Killian panics, clutching her tighter against him and scurrying away from the woman. He won’t let anyone take her, he won’t. He will fix this, he can fix this.

He lays her gently against the grass, brushing the hair out of eyes so she won’t be annoyed when she wakes, and flutters his fingers down her body. He’s shivering, but the fire that burns in his chest is swimming in his veins now and he thinks about every wound he’s ever healed.

He rips his shirt with the hook and wraps it over the gaping mark on her chest, putting pressure.

“Help me!” He’s never yelled so loudly; he can hear his desperation echo off the trees near the cemetery. “Help! Emma, my darling, please, Swan!”

He hears footsteps and relief floods him when he sees David and Regina running towards them. David falls to his knees next to his wife, his eyes trained on Emma’s expressionless face, while Regina skids to a halt. She turns, but not quick enough, and Henry’s screams make him whimper in pain.

Robin wraps his arms tightly around the lad, refusing to let go even as he struggles. Killian aches, but ignores him. “Help me,” he begs.

David crawls towards them but hesitates, his hand shaking nearly as hard as Killian is when he reaches to touch Emma’s hand. He recoils, retreating quickly to his wife. They clutch each other as they break.

“What happened?” Regina stands still, her expression hard.

“It doesn’t bloody matter!” He growls at the same time that Snow weeps out, “They killed her, there was a gun, he killed her.”

“Help me,” he tries again. No one seems to be listening but he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t save her. He can’t save anyone.

For the first time, Regina and David seem to notice Cruella’s limp body thrown over a gravestone. “Cruella?” Her voice is a whisper but the sound causes Snow to howl.

“She was the distraction,” his teeth are chattering while he stutters out the words, laced thick with regret, “We were distracted…” he bends over Emma, peppering small kisses lightly on her hair and cheeks. They’re cold and he weeps.

“Hades,” Snow can barely push out the name before she’s too far gone.

There’s silence, a beat, then two, and Killian nearly gives up. Nearly lets the grief consume him and end his life. It is his fault she’s gone but the pain is too encompassing. 

“You can fix this?” He looks at Regina and the sympathy on her face is nearly suffocating. He wipes his face with his sleeve, sniffing hard and narrowing his eyes. “You have to fix this.”

Regina kneels on the grass, her hands hesitating before grabbing one of Emma’s between her hands. She shakes her head and a cry explodes out of David. “It’s been too long, Hook. I-- I’m not strong enough. I don’t think anyone is. This wasn’t a magical death, she was shot. She’s gone.”

“No!”

He gathers her to him, rocking her again. He closes his eyes and buries her face in the curls, but the damp blood touches his face. He had tethered every wisp of his soul to his beautiful Swan and he can feel them float away, each ribbon of his essence disintegrating the colder she got.

He drops his head, his eyes flickering across his face, and for a moment he believes. Something bright flares in his chest and his mouth tingles in anticipation. He presses her lips to his, the taste salty from his tears, and hopes harder than he ever has before that, though he’s always failed before, he’s enough this time.

When he pulls away, the entire group stares at Emma with wide eyes. She remains still and they let out a collective sob.

“She’s my True Love,” he groans, “I love her, I love you, I love you,” he needs her. He needs her more than anything.

Regina squeaks and takes a quick, gasping inhale. All eyes turn to her. Killian’s limbs wake up at her expression, adrenaline pounding next to the grief under his skin.

“There’s nothing more powerful than True Love,” she mutters. Her face hardens and she snaps her fingers, a small book appearing in her hands.

“Your mother’s spell book?” Snow sniffles, shrugging out of David’s grip to kneel next to Regina. She doesn’t look at her daughter.

“Not quite,” Regina says, leafing through the pages with a frown. “That’s up in Storybrooke. But Henry and I found this in her office. I don’t know who it belongs to, it’s-” she hesitates, but glances at Emma and nods. “It’s Dark Magic.”

“Regina-” David starts, but Snow whips her head to him with a glare Killian has never seen her wear before.

“If you’re willing,” she says slowly, still staring at her husband, “then do it, Regina. Whatever it is.”

David stands, clumsily moving to the group. He drops his hand to Killian’s shoulder and squeezes. “Whatever the price, I’ll pay it.”

Regina stops flipping, bringing the book so close to her face her nose nearly touches the pages. She looks at Killian, her mouth turned down in a lowered crescent moon. “It won’t be your price, David. It’s his.”

“Yes,” he agrees quickly, shakily passing Emma to her parents. He feels heavier without her weight on him and emptier, too, as if it’s not her body but his he’s missing. His legs shake but he forces them to go to Regina. Despite everything in his too long life, despite any reservation he’s ever had for the former evil queen, he puts his hand on hers and tries to soften the quivering of his face. She seems shocked, lips parting in a small ‘o’, but he squeezes his fingers and ignores the wheezing heave of his lungs before begging once more. “Please, Regina. Anything.”

“It’s more like everything,” she whispers. Her face is stricken with grief, tears pooling in her eyes, but Killian feels so light. He smiles and though its watery, he means it.

“Anything,” he reaffirms.

Regina nods sharply. “Lay down,” she directs. “David, lay her next to him. Back away. Henry, don’t look.”

Henry’s body had been limp in Robin’s hold since his scream, but now he jerks and fights. “Mom, what are you doing? Can you-- fix her? Will she be okay?”

Regina turns to him, her shoulders straightening. “I-- I think so. Yes, Henry.”

He sniffles and Robin lets him go. He leans against Snow and David, the couple wrapping their arms around him. He’s entangled in them, David cupping the back of his head as he’s always done with Emma.

“And Killian? He’ll be okay?”

He feels a punch to his chest at the words but ignores it. His body lays still, his head turning to look at Emma. Her hair is fanned across the grass, her eyes closed. If her lips weren’t tinged blue and her chest red, he would think she was sleeping.

Regina’s words don’t register to him but he hears Snow gasp out. He doesn’t care what the price is. For the first time, he truly understands the agony Emma went through in Camelot. He brushes his fingers over the top of her hand and his eyelids flutter closed.

“Hook,” Regina says softly, “Give me your hand.”

He offers it quickly and Regina clutches it before resting her other on Emma’s face. “Did you hear the price?”

He shakes his head. He doesn’t care.

“Your memories,” she whispers. “Every memory of Emma.” He inhales sharply.

Emma saved him. It was their story, full of hardships and yearning and love, that pulled him out of the pit he had dug for himself.

But he had fallen in love with her so quickly. Surely he would again. At least she would be there, breathing and alive.

“And hers of you, Killian. When Emma wakes up, she won’t remember anything about you.”

Snow cries out again and Killian’s own tears slip from his eyes to make shaky trails down either side of his face. Emma won’t know him. Emma won’t love him. Emma won’t love him.

It hurts but not as much as her still, unbreathing corpse next to him. He would rather never see her again than her not see. 

“Please do it,” he moans. “Please save her.”

Her hand drops his and she presses it to his chest. Pain blossoms out from where her hand touches him, bright fire and burning lightning replacing the blood in his veins, and he screams out before his mind recoils and he falls deep, dark unconsciousness seeping into him.

\---

He groans when he tries to sit up, but a strong hand holds him down. Killian starts to struggle, but his head is made of a thousand bees, stinging and swarming around his skull and it hurts so he quits.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” He snaps, but his voice sounds weak, as if he’d drank sea water, and it doesn't hold the authoritative ring he was aiming for.

“Emma got sick when she stood up too quickly,” he still can’t open his eyes wide enough to see the man who’s speaking, but his voice is soft enough that Killian doesn’t think he’s in danger. “I’m hoping to avoid a second show.”

He lays still for a moment, trying to pinpoint where he is. Everything feels fuzzy and wrong. He doesn’t remember where he is. His mind stings and though flashes of memories bombard him, they’re incomplete and confusing. He remembers the names, remembers a boy he went back to hell for, remembers a man he was desperate to save from the same death his own brother went through, remembers working with the bloody crocodile and giving up his revenge. But the memories are all too short, too confusing. Why would he do these things?

Killian doesn’t feel like himself. He’s weaker.

His back begins to ache and despite the warm hand warning him to sit, he sits up. His head rushes and his stomach turns, but he manages not to be sick.

“Are you okay?” The man looks familiar and worried. After a moment, Killian places him. He thinks his name is Dave.

“Aye. What happened?” 

Dave wraps an arm around Killian and helps him sit up. Killian frowns, closing his eyes in concentration. He doesn’t remember why or how he knows this man.

“I-” the man frowns. “It’s hard to explain. Let’s go back to the others.”

“The others?” His head doesn’t pound as hard any more. Relief floods him that his legs seem to be back to normal and he’s able to trail after Dave rather than lean on him.

Dave turns to him and Killian notices how tired the man looks. His eyes are rimmed red and puffy, as if he had been crying. He doesn’t really remember much about Dave’s wife, but he’s pretty sure he has one. He can’t explain why but his heart flips and he hopes the woman is okay.

Dave mutters something under his breath, too low for Killian to hear, and then sighs. “Do you remember my family?”

Killian cocks his head, rubbing absently at his chest. It feels tender, like he has a bruise forming underneath his vest. “You have a wife,” he starts slowly. “And a son.”

He flinches, recoiling away from Killian, but nods. They keep walking until he can see a small group of people huddled near a tree.

“Killian!” A boy with dark, moppy hair runs to him and throws his arms around him. Killian’s eyes widen but he wraps one arm around him. His face sparks something inside Killian. Something fights against his lack of recognition and he forces himself to focus until some of his memories come back. 

He remembers being around the lad, remembers some of trying to save him in Neverland, remembers teaching him to play dice and sail. Baelfire’s Henry, his mind supplies, and he hugs the boy tighter. His memories of the boy are missing, too, but he remembers enough to feel a fierce love swirl in his heart. Perhaps it was for this boy, his Milah’s grandson, that he did the things that made no sense.

“You’re alright!” A woman with pale skin and dark hair throws her arms around his neck the second he lets go of Henry, but Killian has a harder time placing her. He knows he should know her, can feel the familiarity bubbling underneath his skin, but every memory of her seems foggy.

“This is Snow,” Dave says gently, putting an arm on her shoulder to pull her away. “My wife. And that’s Henry, our grandson.”

Grandson? Killian wonders their connection to Bae, but thinking about it makes a sharp pain radiate inside of his chest so he dismisses the train of thought.

Three others sit by the tree and Killian raises an eyebrow at them. They’re hovering protectively over a bloodied blonde and Killian wonders if that’s the Emma Dave was telling him about.

He recognizes Regina and, after a moment, remembers that she’s Henry’s mother. Most of his memories of her are dark, tainted by his time in the Enchanted Forest, but a few are calmer, working begrudgingly side by side to save Henry. Robin is more unfamiliar, but still, he remembers eating at Granny’s with the man, even if the conversations evade him.

The blonde looks up at him and for a moment the bruise on his chest throbs. Bits of her hair are matted together with dried blood and her sweater, in addition to a gaping hole, is painted. He takes a step forward before frowning.

Clearing his throat, Killian turns away from her. “What happened to me?”

“To us,” the woman stands, albeit shakily, and Regina puts a hand on her back as Emma marches towards the small group.

Emma stands next to Henry, who wraps his arms around her tightly. They all seem so familiar with her. How could it be possible he’s never met her?

“Hades,” Regina finally says. “We’re just glad you’re both okay.”

She nods at him and Killian offers her one back, though he’s confused. He never thought he was particularly close to the queen.

“You’re not telling me something,” Emma accuses. She’s pale, her face lacking the blush that he thinks should be there. There’s blood on his hands and he thinks it must be hers.

He raises an eyebrow when Dave sighs. “Your memories. They’re gone.”

“Like Ingrid?” Emma’s hand tightens around Henry. Killian doesn’t know any Ingrids.

“No,” Snow shakes her head. “They’re gone for good now. I’m sorry, Emma.”

“What memories?” Killian crosses his arms. 

“Does it really matter?” Regina snaps. “Look at Emma! Clearly you’ll lose more than your memories next time. We need to go.”

It does matter, but maybe Regina is right. He looks at the tattered blonde who nervously eyes Bae’s lad and he decides that getting him safe is more important than any memory he might have lost.

\--

It’s dark before they get much farther and Emma is still weak whatever Hades had done to her before he took their memories. When he suggests laying low for one more evening, the entire group’s shoulders relax.

Unwilling to go back to where Hades might find them, they make a small camp underneath the canopy of trees near the cemetery.

They all seem to fall asleep quickly, though Emma tosses and turns on the hard ground. He doesn’t bother trying to sleep, instead wishes for his flask and struggles to remember.

He barely remembers the town they’re trying to go to, though Henry says he’s been there for months. He barely remembers anything from the past few years.

He remembers Snow with a scowl on her face and a pink cardigan, glaring at him when no one else was around. Remembers double crossing Cora, though he doesn’t remember why or how. Though he remembers bits of his time in Neverland, he can’t remember the majority.

A part of him still thrums with the need for revenge. Another reminds him that though he can’t remember why he gave up, there must have been a reason.

The night is cold and he decides that after three centuries of pain, he doesn’t qutie mind that whatever pain he’s suffered in the last few are gone.

He sits near the fire and watches the forest. He doesn’t know how much time passes as he sits there, not allowing his thoughts to focus on any one thing, before he hears her clear her throat.

He knows it’s her without turning around. The thin hair on the back of his neck rises when he first hears her footsteps and goosebumps break out of his skin when she nears closer.

“Mind if I join you?” Her voice is small and he doesn’t have the heart to turn her away. He nods.

She settles next to him, crossing her arms as she tightens her red leather jacket across her chest. “What are we looking at?”

He glances at her, but her focus is on the treeline. “The trees.” He answers.

She cocks her head at it, tilting until her neck is bared to him. Her nose scrunches, lines pulling around her face, and he swallows down the groan at how endearing he finds it.

There’s something soft about the quiet between them. Killian can’t help but think that maybe these are moments they shared before.

A sharp pain pushes at his skull when he digs for the memories and he quickly gives up.

Emma looks less weak now. Her lips and cheeks are pinker than before. He can’t explain it, but his breathing evens and his heart beats a little bit better to see her looking healthy.

She frowns at him and her lips part before she slams them shut and turns her gaze away. He huffs in annoyance.

“If you have something to say, love, then by all means, speak your mind.”

She turns to him, glaring. Mockingly, he grins back and shifts so he’s sitting in front of her, obscuring her view of the forest. He scoots until they’re nearly clutching. She rolls her eyes.

She shivers and he shrugs off his coat, quickly, dropping it in his lap. They both look at it, surprised.

“I asked about you. My son-”

“Who’s your son?”

Her face scrunches again. “Henry.”

He feels floored by the knowledge, though of course she’s Henry’s mother. “You knew Bae?”

She looks as surprised as he feels. “You knew him?”

“Aye,” his heart clenches. When he asked after him, David told him that Bae died protecting his family. He imagines Emma was included in that group. “When he was just a boy. His mother was my Milah.”

Emma’s eyes dart to the tattoo on his forearm. “Your Milah?” Her fingers raise and hesitates over the ink. “Who was she?”

“Someone from long ago,” he pulls his arm away and looks down, his jaw locked. When he’s sure he’s got his emotions in check, he turns back to Emma. She looks apologetic and it burns him. “What did you want to say to me, Swan?”

She sighs. “You were a villain. But Henry seems to think you’ve changed. Actually, my whole family does. I don’t like new people. I don’t trust them. I’ve gone through too much to keep my family safe and-” she shakes her head. “But I guess you’re not really new, are you?”

His shoulders droop, unsure how to respond. Both answers feel like a lie.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

Emma’s looking at him now with an openness he knows must be hard for her. The vulnerability in her expression makes him ache to reassure her. “I don’t know why I’m here. How I know them or you. But I- whatever my intentions were before, they’re honorable now. I swear it.”

Her eyes flicker across his face and he feels the slow gaze as if it’s a physical touch, dragging against the slips and planes of his face. Although he’s spent hundreds of years getting by on his fast reflexes and good looks, he briefly worries about the scar underneath his eye, the too unkempt beard he’s sporting. The look is calculating and, though he doesn’t care, he’s immensely worried about her decision.

“I’m going to choose to see the best in you,” she says firmly.

And though the conversation is over and he no longer wishes to annoy her, he can’t bring himself to tear his stare away from her.

\--

He swings the sword around, decapitating another one of the blasted monsters in between their small group and the river. He looks around to make sure Henry is safe and has to stop himself from sagging in relief. Regina and Snow stand on either side of Henry, arrows and fireballs flying into their enemies and keeping the lad safe.

Robin is quicker than Snow, his arrows more true, and David has proven himself adept with the sword from battles they’ve faced before, so he doesn’t worry about them. Another zombie lunges at him and he jabs his sword through it, kicking him away.

He hears a gasp and spins around to see Emma surrounded on either side. She’s quick with her daggers and white magic, brighter than any he’d ever seen before, but for some reason the monsters seem to be focused on killing her more than the others. Perhaps this Hades has a vendetta on the strange girl, wants her dead more than he wants them.

Although she’s not the one caged as his personal toy for weeks, he thinks. Another monster throws its body at him and he quickly stabs his hook through his chest, using his sword to chop its head off. Killian stomps towards Emma.

“Having all the fun without me, sweetheart?” He runs his sword through one monster before shoving it away. She looks at him, wildly at first, before her face softens into a grin.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she jokes. He laughs and opens his mouth to reply when a zombie charges at him and swipes its nails across his cheek. He hisses at the pain and Emma huffs.

She lifts a hand and a burst of magic beams out, shoving the zombie back at a neck breaking speed. “We were talking!” She tells his corpse, peaking a glance at him. When she sees him staring at him, her mouth twitches.

He sends her a wink before turning to the monsters and fighting in earnest. It’s an easy fight, regardless of the quantity of enemy warriors. They’re sloppy and using only their hands. Killian feels like maybe he hasn’t had a good fight in years. So many of his memories are gone that he thinks he probably hasn’t.

They work together and quickly there are no monsters left. She’s panting a little, but smiling widely. He likes the look of it.

He’s close enough to her that she has to crane her neck to see him. A bit of her dirty hair is hanging in her face and, quite without thinking about it, he uses his hook to brush it away. Nerves fill him, but tingle into a warm sensation when she doesn’t flinch away from the appendage.

“I don’t mean to upset you, Emma,” he murmurs. “But I think we make quite the team.”

She flushes and laughs, but it doesn’t sound as real as he thinks it could, so he takes a wide step back. His cheeks burn at his forwardness and he scratches the back of his neck, looking around. Their fighting had led them fairly far from the rest of the group, but he can see them in the distance. They appear to be done fighting, as well.

She gestures towards them and he nods his agreement, walking side by side towards the others.

She looks at him when he thinks he isn’t paying attention and his teeth bite down on his bottom lip to hold in another smirk.

A sense of relaxation fills him that is entirely unreasonable for being trapped in hell with a stranger and missing memories. But for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t think that things are hopeless.

Emma’s presence is light, like a balm. He wonders if she’s a part of his missing life. Wonders if maybe their familiarity is less inherent and more earned.

Guilt pools in his stomach until his eyes sting. He doesn’t even remember why he gave up his revenge. How could he behave so callously, as if Milah’s memory means nothing to him?

By the time they reach Dave and his family, he’s thoroughly chastised. He can’t even bring himself to look at Bae’s son, too afraid he’ll see the near betrayal that his reactions to Emma were.

“Ready to get out of this hell hole?” Regina asks.

David laughs, clapping him on the back and throwing an arm around Emma. “I know I am!”

They climb into the boat that the zombies had been defending and the crocodile winces when his blood drips into the river. Killian smiles at it.

Emma’s leaning her head on Dave’s shoulder and he stares at her fondly. Snow’s eyes are filled with tears as she gently brushes her hair away from her face. Killian can’t stop himself from wondering what happened to her to make them so gentle, to make them appear so fearful to touch her.

But she looks at him, green eyes calculating and warmth floods his senses when rosebud lips slowly lift into a smile, and for the first time, he regrets the revenge he let plague him for so long that tainted him so unworthy of the girl in front of him.

\---

 

“We can’t, it would burn their minds!”

“We can’t keep lying to them, either!”

“They have to remember naturally or not at all, David. I’ve told you the consequences of that spell. Maybe they’ll work it out themselves-”

“They’re not the same people they were, they might not be drawn to each other the way they were and-”

Emma storms past him and the loud sound draws the attention of the group in Snow’s loft.

He had arrived only moments before Emma, but while his plan was to listen to the family’s conversation to glean the truth, Emma appeared to want a more direct option.

“What the hell is going on?” She demands, her tiny hands curled into fists on her hips.

Killian says to hell with it and stalks in after Emma, glaring at the trio. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Regina huffs but Snow and David look down, their guilt clear. “Get over yourselves and stop asking that. We told you everything we can.”

Killian nearly scoffs. He’s only known Emma for a week and even he knows she’s too smart to be tricked by Regina’s half lies. Not one for disappointing him, Emma jabs a finger at her and bites out, “But not everything you know.”

Snow swoops towards them, gathering both of Emma’s hands in hers. “No, Emma. But it is everything we can say. Please, believe me.”

Killian doesn’t much know Snow, so he turns to David. He’s staring at his daughter but looks at him, briefly, and his pleading gaze is enough to make Killian soften.

“I believe you,” Emma sounds reluctant but her anger, too, has weakened and he thinks she might feel as awkward as he does standing there.

The silence is tense and Killian, regretfully, misses the quiet by the sea they had shared the night of their return. It’s been nearly a week since then and he hasn’t had the peace he did then since.

Snow offers to make them tea but Regina says she needs to pick Henry up from school.

Killian straightens quickly. “I’ll get him!” He offers, but when four heads snap towards him, he deflates. “That is, if you would like. I wouldn’t mind.”

He can’t help but feel closest to the lad. His memories are incomplete, as they are with all of them, but he distinctly remembers sailing with the boy, so similar to the good days he had with Bae. And, too, over the past week, it seemed as if Henry enjoyed spending time with him, too.

“Can you even drive?” Emma raises an eyebrow, nodding towards his hook. He’s pleasantly surprised that the instead of the insecurity he often feels when people mention his deformity, he’s only slightly amused.

“I’m sure I can manage, love,” he teases. “Though if you want to lend me a hand, I’ll certainly let you.”

Emma laughs, the sound delightful to Killian, and he beams at her.

“Let’s go, then,” she shakes her head as she heads out of the loft. Killian’s cheeks heat when he sees the grins on Snow and David’s faces.

Though he knows he’s perfectly capable of driving- or, at least, he’s fairly certain he’s capable- Emma slides into the driver’s seat of her bug and Killian doesn’t protest, merely climbing into the passenger’s side.

They don’t bother talking during the drive and it makes Killian thrum with pleasure.

“I hate being lied to,” Emma says without prompting when they pull into the parking lot. She’s clenching the wheel tightly and it looks to him that she’s been waiting to say that since her parents. “Even lying by omission.”

“Must make having your superpower frustrating,” he sympathises. He hates lies, too. He’s had too many of them in his years. One of the perks at rounding your four hundredth birthday is that you get good at realizing when people are telling the truth or not. But occasionally the lies can slip through. Emma didn’t have that.

She’s staring at him, green eyes wide. Her hair is gathered over one shoulder, curls that nearly touch her lap from the seat of her car, and he nearly closes his eyes at how pretty she is.

“How did you know that?” Her tongue darts out of her mouth to touch her lips and he’s thoroughly distracted.

“Know what?” Though the tongue is hidden again, his eyes stay trained on her lips in case it makes a reappearance.

“My superpower. How did you know about that?”

He looks up at that, frowning. “I’m not sure. Perhaps your boy told me.”

She glances out the window, nodding. “Sure,” she says absently. “Must’ve.”

He tries to remember Henry saying anything, but can’t. When he thinks harder about where he learned that about Emma, his head starts to swim and burn, the thickest pain he’s ever felt throbbing inside his skull. He grabs at it, clawing at his head to make it stop.

It hurts, like a dagger of flames through his thoughts and he remembers what Regina said before Emma stormed her parents apartment. As quickly as he’s able, he forces himself to stop wondering about Emma.

They don’t bother saying anything else while they wait for Henry to reach the car and Killian basks in her peaceful quiet.

\--

They’re alone on the dock when Hades shimmers into existence, quickly grabbing Emma before she can register he’s even there. Her parents are patrolling north of here, too far, and he quickly unsheathes his 

“Get away from her!” Killian throws the sword with all of his strength, watching as it sails through the air to slice through Hades’ body. There’s a satisfying whoosh before it sticks in his gut.

The demon laughs and pulls it out, dropping it to the ground. “Sorry, cupcake. Need more than a toothpick to hurt a god.” He lifts the hand that’s holding Emma’s throat and cocks his head at her. “But to hurt a savior.”

Killian is positive that standing at the docks of Storybrooke, watching his dangle Emma as she turns blue, he has never felt more alive. He’s survived for hundreds of years, been alive and kicking for most of them, but the adrenaline that pulses through him is stronger than any emotion he has ever felt.

“I’ll kill you,” he vows, stalking towards Hades.

The god laughs, shaking his head as his blue flames ignite. He turns to face him fully, Emma’s body swinging. He thinks the whimper must have belonged to him.

“Like you did Rumpelstiltskin?” Hades mocks.

Killian charges at him and Hades’ laughs again, raising his hand. Killian freezes, magic holding him there.

He drops Emma and stalks towards Killian. Killian watches in horror as Emma’s body crumbles on the ground.

“I’m sick and tired of your little romance getting in the way of my unlife,” Hades spits the words out, flicking his wrist. Killian can feel the air rush out of his lungs. “You don’t even know her and it’s still somehow messing with my plans.”

Emma starts to cough violently and Killian cries out, relief so strong he can taste it on the tip of his tongue.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hades leans in, grinning, “I’ll take care of her. I just want her to watch you die first.”

And he shoots his hand towards Killian, nails elongated and blue with flames as they shove through his chest. He can’t keep the guttural screams in his throat; they expel out of him with a force he thought he was too weak for.

“Killian!” Emma sobs out his name and Hades laughs as if it delights him. Killian forces himself to hold on, to fight the pain, if only so she doesn’t see him die.

He doesn’t know what they were before. He doesn’t even really know what they are now. But he knows that looking at her feels like home and her smile makes him feel more like Liam’s Killian than Blackbeard’s. He wishes, so briefly and so strongly, that he had a chance for more.

Hades drops his body suddenly, taking a step away as he stares in horror. It’s so reminiscent of the look he gave Liam that hope flares, bright and hot, in his chest. 

Emma doesn’t seem to notice. She crawls towards him.

She’s staring at him with an expression that looks so familiar and he can feel his energy start to drain. He doesn’t want to die not knowing her. He wants to remember as badly as he wants to live.

Her shaking hands move to rest on either side of his face. His eyes flutter closed at the sensation and she cries out.

“Killian, come back to me.”

The words spark something inside of his chest. He feels water bubbling on his skin and his lips tingle as if they’d been licked by starlight. He looks at her, leaning over him with a panicked expression, her lips forming his name again, and suddenly he remembers.

He pushes himself up despite her protest and the ache in his body, his hand cupping her face as gently as he can. “Emma,” he murmurs, tears filling his eyes.

His mind turns the memories over again and again. Her face is scrunched in confusion and he rubs his thumb across her cheek, playing their first kiss, dance, I love you, on repeat until the pain starts to drench each thought with lightening.

His body jerks. He curls his hand into a fist and bites his bottom lip to keep his cries inside his body. He breaks the skin with his effort and blood dribbles down his chin, but as his entire body seized and trembles, fire burning him from the inside, he can’t bother to care.

“Killian? Killian!” Emma lays him down as gently as she can, but it feels like a thousand shards of glass. This was what Regina meant by burning their minds.

Although the pain creates a fog out of his thoughts, he’s grateful he remembered and not her. Grateful that although this pain will kill him, she will live and she will not feel this agony.

He can feel himself fading, familiar with the way death takes over his body, and knows that Emma won’t be able to save him this time. But there’s no unfinished business to hold him back now. This death will be final, the price he offered to pay in the Underworld in exchange for Emma. He can’t regret that, even now, as death comes to collect him.

“Kiss him, Emma,” he hears voices around him, can feel more than just Emma’s balm-like presence.

He hears her sniffle, question her mother. Snow’s voice is more insistent when she repeats herself.

“Trust me,” Henry’s voice sounds coarse and Killian hates that the poor lad has seen him go so many times.

The flames burst again and he’s unable to keep the sounds in, his whole body thrashing as it rejects this venomous torture ripping his mind apart.

His skin is on fire and he’s going to die and-

Then, her lips press into his.

Like so many times before, her kiss is his salvation once more. Softer than her featherlike touch on his face, her lips move against his. Their cool, soothing the flames that lick against his skin. It feels like stars are erupting between their lips, something so right being formed. The feeling is warm and soft and he nearly groans from the pleasure of the gentle magic that is forming from their touch. It pushes away from them and he opens one eye to see it manifest in a thick white cloud, shooting across the horizon and shaking the ground.

While his heart sings at what has happened, he closes his eyes and threads his fingers through her hair, kissing her more deeply. When she pulls away, he tries hopelessly to lift his head to follow.

But it’s an unnecessary movement, as she takes in a ragged breath and descends again down, this time kissing him more forcefully. His chest feels whole again, the memories of his Swan no longer an aching burn, and he sits up, dragging her with him.

Her hands run across his shoulders, his face, until they grip his hair tightly. The kiss is more desperate than any they’ve ever shared, more filled with love than anything. When his lungs start to burn and the need for air is painful, he pulls back, lowering her to the ground and resting his forehead against hers.

She breathes heavy and he pants with her, unable to take his eyes off of her face. 

“Emma,” he murmurs, his fingers crawling down her face, trailing down her neck until they reach her stomach, where the bullet hole and broken through.

“I-” Emma’s hand covers his and she looks up at him with more softness than he’s ever seen, “You saved me.”

“You’re alright.” He can barely believe it. It worked. She was okay. She was alive.

She throws her arms around his neck again, this time pulling him close and burying her face into his shoulder. She hugs him and he squeezes her, probably too tightly, to his chest.

She’s clutched to him, practically in his lap. He’s sat with her like this before and he nearly begins to sob at the differences.

She smiles at him, wide and happy and her, and he kisses her softly until he hears a throat clear.

Her parents are grinning, Henry bounces on the balls of his feet, and even Regina looks pleased. Killian feels like he could hug the woman.

“‘Bout time that kiss worked,” Dave teases, “Haven’t you tried it a dozen times now?”

“More like half a dozen,” Snow corrects, her eyes snapping back and forth between their faces.

Killian presses a kiss to Emma’s forehead, closing his eyes when she snuggles closer to him.

One of her hands runs through his hair, fingers spread as the strands slide through them, the other on his neck. She looks at him so wondrously and he doubles his efforts not to cry.

“You saved me,” she repeats, softly.

Killian strokes her cheek with his thumb. “Did you ever doubt I would?”

“The gaping chest wound gave me pause,” she leans her head into his palm.

Their family laughs and Killian can’t help but kiss her again, regardless of their audience. For the first time in weeks, he’s whole again and he’s sure, in that moment, that he’s living his happily ever after.


End file.
